


salt on your tongue

by misura



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Blow Jobs, M/M, Season/Series 03 Spoilers, Unhappy Ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-25
Updated: 2019-08-25
Packaged: 2020-09-26 12:51:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 968
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20390005
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/misura/pseuds/misura
Summary: The beginning, the happy bit in the middle, and the ending.





	salt on your tongue

They're both a bit drunk, the first time it happens. If there'd been any girls there, it never would've happened at all, but there aren't, and so somehow Theon ends up on his knees, getting his trousers all dirty, and for one, two moments, hearing Robb moan for him is good enough to make him forget who and where he is. (All right, maybe it's more like three or four moments.)

Robb doesn't take long, and once Theon gets his head clear enough, he feels a bit smug about that, to bask in the glow of having gotten Robb off quick like that. A girl would've taken longer, he thinks, would've drawn it out, but they are men, and this is how men fuck: quick and hard and dirty.

"Theon," Robb says, when Theon rises, "let me," because he's Lord Stark's son, and Theon figures that means he's been raised to pay his debts.

Theon's ironborn. " 's all right," he says. He can imagine Robb on his knees, returning the favor just fine, but it'll be better if he waits. He wants it when they're both sober, to enjoy the moment, instead of doing it when his head's still all fuddled, trying to make sense of what just happened, trying to figure out what's wrong with him, to almost come just from letting another man shove his cock down his throat.

Robb's hands find his shoulders and squeeze, and Robb looks at him, sincere and honorable but also still half-wrecked, and Theon's not sure what he wants more: to fuck Robb or to be fucked by Robb.

"Another time," Robb says.

Theon works up a smile. He wants to be alone, where he can get himself off without anyone there to see, where everything will be simple for a little while longer.

"Another time," he agrees.

Theon reckons it wouldn't be honorable not to keep his promise, and it's not as if he doesn't want to.

He can tell Robb's a bit nervous, a bit inexperienced, like Theon was the first person to ever suck his cock and he hasn't been paying enough attention at the time to figure out how to do it himself.

"Could use your hand, you know," he says, feeling generous and noble. It's a good feeling, mixed with a touch of smug about there being something he's better at than Robb Stark, Heir to Winterfell.

Robb looks up at him. "Is that what you want?"

Theon thinks he wants Robb any way it's possible to have him. 'Course, he also wants to be had by Robb any which way. "I - " he says, licking his lips. "Just don't want you to be uncomfortable, is all."

Robb chuckles. Theon wants to shut him up by kissing him, to make it so the only sound Robb's capable of making are moans and beggings.

Instead, Robb kisses him first, his hands already reaching, and Theon tries to hold on to feeling generous and noble but it's hard to focus on feeling anything other than the sensation of Robb's hands on his cock, so after a couple moments he stops trying.

He tries to keep score, to keep things fair. Balanced. He knows Robb doesn't, doesn't think like that, doesn't measure his honor by how many times he's been buggered put against how many times he's done the buggering.

Theon supposes it's a bit silly, at that. His family's word - his _other_ family's words are 'we do not sow', which Theon figures means he shouldn't, either. Take what you can get, that's the thing.

Only problem is, Theon's pretty sure Robb'd give him anything. They're friends, best friends, always have been, and now they're also fucking, and the only thing that's changed is that Theon needs to remember to fuck a girl every now and then, for the sake of his reputation.

It won't last, of course. This thing they've got, he and Robb. Anyone finds out, it's going to get ugly, and even if no one ever does, there's going to come a time when Robb's going to get himself a wife and do like his father did, except for that one time that resulted in Jon Snow.

Theon tells himself he doesn't mind. He's not some girl, to get all sentimental and clingy and weepy.

What he is, it turns out, is unlucky. Sheer bad luck, is all. Maybe Theon doesn't help, making a few mistakes along the way, but he's pretty damn sure nothing he's done is so bad as to have earned the cross, to be tortured by some lying bastard who wouldn't recognize honor if it fucked him up the arse.

Some days, the early days, he imagines it's Robb after all, waiting in some other room.

Theon pictures Robb walking in, pictures telling him about his brothers. That should buy him some mercy, Theon reckons. Some forgiveness. Maybe even a smile, a chance, a new beginning.

_'We were friends, you and I, not so long ago,'_ he imagines saying. _'And you what? You think I'd kill your brothers, just like that? Bran and Rickon? I loved 'em as if they were my own. I grew up with them, for gods' sakes.'_

(He was angry and they'd betrayed him and he needed to save face, look strong, earn the respect of his men, is all. Even if he'd found them, he wouldn't have actually done anything. Well, nothing too bad, anyway. They were just kids, after all.)

_'Cut him loose,'_ Robb will say, and Theon will struggle to his feet, to stand like a man, and Robb will step a little closer, supporting him, both of them pretending Theon doesn't need Robb there to stay upright, that he's not crying like a fucking girl with the relief of it finally being over.

(Alas.)


End file.
